Entwined By Design
by Poetgirl616
Summary: Bella needs a new start, living with her father could giver her that. She never counted on all that came from that one decision. . . . Poly story. Banner designed and made by Fanficqueen306
1. Prologue

Summary: Bella needs a new start, living with her father could giver her that. She never counted on all that came from that one decision. . . .

* * *

Prologue

I stared out into the foggy green landscape as I sat in the passengers seat of my mother's silver Taurus.

Forks. My birthplace, the home of my father and his father's before him. It was the town I was now traveling into.

Renee wanted some alone time with her new boy toy and I hadn't spent any time with my father in two years. Win, win situation in my point of view.

We pulled up in front of my father's simple, tan brown brick two bedroom, two bathroom house. His cruiser and beat up black pick up were parked in the drive way.

My father, Charlie Swan, stood in the front doorway. His five foot nine frame leaned slightly on the door, his dark brown hair peppered with grey streaks here and there.

I took a deep breath before exiting the car. Here we go. . . .


	2. Not So Boring After All

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Saga or its characters. Any unrecognized plot or characters are mine.**

Chapter One: Not So Boring After All

I sighed, running my hands over my light blue comforter set while I sat on my king sized bed. It was very strange, occupying a room that had been mine, but at the same time, hadn't. I'd been living with Renee while this room had gathered dust.

Speaking of my mother. . . . I'd been in Forks with my father less than two days, and already, I could tell that living with him would be different than living with her.

For one thing, there wouldn't be men filing in and out like they were all continuously walking through a swinging door. I can honestly say that I wouldn't miss the sounds that resulted from their visits.

Cue full body shudder.

Anyway, he was also different as he was actually paying bills and holding down the job in the house. It was sooo tiring being the only responsible one under a single roof.

Now, the question was. . . What the hell would I do with this newfound freedom?

* * *

Okay, I'd cleaned every inch of my new room from top to bottom. After that, I tackled the very dirty and obviously unused in quite a while, bathroom. Next came the kitchen, living room, dining room and the grossest of all . . . .the utility room.

All I can say about that room is this: _**EW**_!

I took two showers and scrubbed everything until I was beet red. Satisfied with my cleanliness, I dried off and dressed in a light blue dress. Usually I don't wear the damn things, but I had to do the laundry now. Renee hadn't given me much time to get my things organized before my departure.

I emptied my bags onto my bed and sorted all my clothes into the appropriate piles. I grabbed a basket and headed down to the washer, loading the first batch into the washer.

I didn't have anything really to do at the moment but wait. Well, at least I had the time to plan my next move.

So, high school?

Hours of mind numbing teachers droning on about whatever crap they wanna cram into our skulls. Then, there's the students. The gossip thirsty, clique driven, mass of flesh eating sharks circling in the water that is the school ground.

Nope, didn't want to endure that.

Now, as for the plan for the rest of the day. . . .that was yet to be decided as well.

I didn't know anyone besides my father, so that ruled out visiting. From what I remember, there wasn't a lot to see and do in this little bitty town. It was one of those things where if you drive through it, you could blink and miss the entire town. Just like that.

I missed Phoenix a bit at the moment. At least there was always something to do in that big old city.

It took about three hours for all my laundry to be finished. Afterward, I sat on the faded tan couch and turned on the sixty inch flat screen t.v.

I channel surfed for a while, before giving up and tossing the remote on an empty cushion. I looked through the cabinets, trying to find something to whip up for dinner. I was shocked at the state of the cabinets, they were almost completely bare. No wonder we ate take out since I got here.

It made sense, though, being a cop meant that he was practically married to the force. He'd spend nearly every waking moment at the station. Besides, I had just arrived, I couldn't expect him to adjust instantaneously because I was here. I hadn't yet, and I'd been here the entire time.

I would have to ask for money to buy groceries, after he showed me where the store was. Hopefully it wasn't a long walk.

Not long after assessing the damage to the food supply, Charlie's cruiser pulled into the driveway. He hung his coat and kicked off his shoes, then removed the bullets of his gun and placed them in a little case on a small shelf beside the coat rack. The bullet case was joined by his gun and badge.

"Hey, Bells. How was your day?" He asked, walking past to drop his keys into their designated bowl.

"Alright, I suppose, I cleaned and did laundry. I also noticed that some grocery shopping needs to be done." I replied as I grabbed a glass of tea.

"Yeah, we can do that tomorrow, it's my day off. Speaking of food, I was planning on heading down the reservation for dinner. Billy invited us over tonight, fish fry and football. Its sort of been a tradition on weekends." He shrugged and glanced at me. "You don't have to go, if you don't want to."

I blinked, collecting my thoughts. It _had_ been awhile since I'd seen anyone here and Billy has been dads friend since before I was born. "Okay, sounds like it could be fun. When will they be expecting us?"

His head shot to the right, his shock showing on his face. "Oh. He set the time for about six thirty."

An hour. Good, I had time to find something to wear.

"Okay then." I murmured, taking the steps two at a time to get ready. Finally, human interaction that wasn't asking my father how work went, as it had been for the past two nights. Looks like living in Forks wouldn't be so boring after all. . . .

* * *

Charlie parked in front of a faded, fire engine red house. I raised my eyebrows at the interesting color choice.

It had character, I could say that much about it.

I slid out of the beat up black pickup and dusted off the back of my jeans, purely out of habit.

Charlie let us in, opening the screen and white front door. The first thing I saw was the small living room, complete with a tan couch and t.v. that reminded me of a computer monitor.

The mahogany hardwood floors shone with the light from the windows. The walls were painted a darker grey, the ceiling a lighter shade that blended well. Pictures, decorative wood work and other beautiful hand-made artifacts covered the walls or sat on strategically placed shelves.

Billy rolled his way toward us in his wheel chair. I had temporarily forgotten that he had been severely injured in a plane crash, the same crash that killed his youngest daughter, Desiree. I immediately felt terrible for the memory lapse. I knew this man, and I just forgot about him while I lived life in Arizona.

"Hey, chief. Bella!" Billy greeted us in his deeper, slightly gravelly voice. "Welcome back, its been a long time. It is a pleasure to have you in my home."

The regret grew as I stared into his warm, genuine eyes. I mentally shook myself when I remembered he was waiting for a response.

"Hey, Billy! It sure is good to be back. Thank you for inviting us over." I smiled at him, hoping to God it looked like I meant it. My mind kept churning with the fact that I forgot such a kind person.

"Jake should emerge from hiding soon. He recently began a new project and I've hardly seen hide or hair of the boy since." He chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

"Oh, really?" Dad asked, chuckling. "If that's the case, how do you get fed, old man?"

"I _am_ capable of feeding myself, Charlie. And who are you calling old man?" Billy retorted, rolling until he gently rammed into dads leg.

I grinned at the silliness the two friends shared, even at their age.

The moment was broken by the slamming of a door upstairs. Billy sighed, his precious playfulness wiped away.

"That would be Jacob," he sighed.

'Jacob' entered the living room shortly after, his five eleven from slouching in. "Okay, where's the food? I'm starved."

I snorted, crossing my arms. Is that supposed to be a welcome?

"Jacob, we have guests," Billy hissed sharply. "You will eat at the same time as the rest of us."

"Seriously? You're taking forever. I'm hungry _now_."

"Jacob Ephraim Black! We have guests in this house and I will not have you acting this way! I did not raise you to behave this way and you will not while you are under this roof."

I flinched at the steel in Billy's tone, almost feeling sorry for the teen. He kind of put it on himself, though, when he started acting like a brat.

"So, uh, what's for dinner?" I questioned, attempting to break the now tense silence.

"My special, limited edition fish fry. Optional side dishes of cole slaw, mashed potatoes with or without gravy, green beans with seasoned crust and creamed corn. Lets eat." Billy shot a stern glare at Jake before gesturing Charlie and I to enter the kitchen first.

I was able to grab my plate first. I chose the fish, Cole slaw, mashed potatoes and crusted green beans. I moved on to the living room, choosing to sit on the floor to the side of the couch. I could still watch t.v. and eat, Charlie and Billy could sit on the couch. I imaging the wheel chair wasn't comfortable to sit in all the time. Jacob sat beside me, to my annoyance.

"Scoot over a bit, you're hogging the good spot." The teen whispered, elbowing my arm.

I roughly elbowed him back. "No."

"Why not? You have plenty of room, you can spare a little."

"And if I don't want to?"

"Well then, I'll have to unleash my powers of persuasion. Best be careful, though, it is a powerful thing. You'll not be able to resist."

"Is that right?" I asked, staring at his dark eyes.

"Yep." He popped the 'p' with a grin.

"Bull. I totally call bull shit on you." I pushed his shoulder, trying to move him farther away. This was my spot, I wasn't scooting for anyone.

"Now, miss Swan, I'm shocked! A lady shouldn't say such unattractive and impolite things." He scolded in a mock British gentleman's voice.

"Okay, you should never do that again." I shuddered, that accent was absolutely awful.

"What?" He asked, nudging her in the side.

"The accent, just don't do it again."

"Oh, everyone's a critic!"

"You asked, pal."

"Yeah, Yeah."

I broke first, giggling like a crazy person. Let me say this. I do not giggle very often, just once in two blue moons. Don't get used to it.

The Black kid seems alright, a bit immature and a pinch of a rebel thing going on. I could hang out with him more, though.


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of its characters, unfortunately. :( Instead, I make them do what I want them to.**

I woke when the sun shone across my eyes, the view I was greeted with was unfamiliar. As was the couch I slept on.

A quick look around revealed living room that had hand-made artifacts scattered around the walls.

A rush of memories hit me and it all came back. I had fallen asleep at the Black's house, on their couch.

"Good morning, Bella!" Billy greeted cheerfully as he wheeled past.

"Uh, good morning." I replied uncertainty.

I stumbled up to the bathroom, did my business, then changed into washed out jeans and a blue button up blouse.

"Anything on the agenda today?" I asked, unsure how the morning after the game went and what they usually did. This was my first game weekend bonding thing with them, after all.

"Breakfast, then games and television. If the weather is nice, there might even be fishing, wouldn't that be wonderful?" Jake gushed, grinning at me and rubbing his hands together like a kid on Christmas about to open his presents.

I blinked at him, unsure what to say at his abrupt mood swing.

He burst into laughter a few moments later, slapping his knee and pointing at me. "Oh, I got you good there! You actually thought we'd go fishing and all that! Ha! Me? Fishing? That'll happen when the sky turns purple!"

"Okaayyy. . . ." I responded, then immediately wanted to smack myself. Nice, Bella, real genius there. "So, what is the plan, really?"

"Definitely breakfast, that's not a lie. As for the rest, that's for the parental figures to dish out. Either way, it'll probably be something lame like fishing or watching jocks knock the shit out of each other in the name of team rivalry and more money than they know what to do with." The smartass quipped, mock shuddering.

Okay, so he hated football, too. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad once he cut the attitude.

"Who's cooking? Or in my father's case, buying?" I asked, steering the conversation, and my thoughts, back to the matter at hand.

"I think my parental figure ordered a platter from the Clearwater place." Jacob answered, shrugging.

"I hope that it wasn't a grease bomb, or I'll have to take a trip to the hospital." I grumbled, I hated hospitals. They were filled with death, pain, and sickness. Renee always made me go when I had one of my attacks, though, so I grew to hate them even more.

He shrugged and walked into the living room, flopping down on the couch with this feet propped up on the coffee table. He snatched up the remote and flipped through channels.

I frowned. Well, that was just swell for him.

Fine. If he wanted it that way, I can do that, too. I decided, sitting at the kitchen table and pretending the other teenager in the house didn't exist.

I know it was a tad childish, but he was being a tool and I had had enough of him for the moment.

I went through a mental list of things I wanted to do or get for the house so it wasn't so creepily the same as it had been when I'd been younger. It wasn't healthy not to go through at least some changes.

I understand that he is married to the force and that leaves little time to redo a house, except for repairs that won't wait, but it's still creepy having the house the same way.

I had decided to take the pressure off of him and make the changes myself. I would start with paint and decorative wall stuff-pictures, paintings, etc. I might use a bit of my savings to replace some countertops and stain the cabinets a different color.

We shall see.

A door slamming followed by a heavenly aroma announced the arrival of breakfast. My father carried two large brown paper sacks to the kitchen, sitting them on the counter and heading for a cabinet near the stove.

Four glasses were placed beside the sacks.

Billy wheeled in and settled in to the open side of the table. Evidentally, we would be eating at the table like in those cheesy' all-American' black and white classic movies from back in the day.

I, personally, had never been subjected to the family bonding over meals nonsense.

Renee hadn't been in the Worlds Greatest Mothers club. She was too busy living her life, a revolving door of men included, to care for a kid much less spend time with one. The boy toys and the life style came first. Always.

I had had two part time jobs to get through school and to pay for the things that were necessary. The house. Food. I paid for everything myself, not a penny I ever spent belonged to another person.

Speaking of, I'd have to look for a job. Or jobs, depending on how shitty the pay was.

I probably could have found one by now, but Charlie doesn't think I should get a job. He believes that I don't need to be wasting my teen years working, instead I should be a regular, reckless teenager that goes out and makes mistakes.

I disagree.

Four stryrofoam to go containers were placed on the table and the parentals were going through each one.

"Who has the French toast and bacon combo with extra syrup?" Billy asked, closing the lid.

"Me. About time, I'm starving." Jacob grabbed the container and began to eat the moment he sat in the empty chair to my left.

"Jacob, the rest of us haven't received ours. You can wait another few minutes." His father responded, a stern bite to his voice. He leveled his son with a glare, pointedly glancing at his open container.

The teen sigh, closing it. "Whatever."

"Full order biscuits and gravy with extra gravy?" The older Indian inquired without missing a beat.

"Mine." I answered, accepting the container. "Thank you."

"That leaves the sausage with cheese and omelette." He handed the container to my dad without waiting for an answer.

Breakfast was a bit awkward after that. Billy and Jacob seemed at odds with each other the entire meal. My father pretended not to notice as he happily stuffed his face. I, on the other hand, glanced back and forth, half expecting someone to break and start screaming.

Yippee.

I was grateful when everyone had finished eating and the tension between father and son was broken.

* * *

I. Hate. My. Life.

Wrestling.

Out of _everything_ that was on today the parentals had to choose _that_. It was the really cheesy one where they pretended to hit each other and almost every man had hair longer than me.

After a really badly executed 'punch' I'd decided that I had had enough.

I pushed off the floor and snuck around the couch. I'd rather stand in traffic than watch this bullshit. So, sneaking around and exploring it is.

I never really had a chance to actually look around yesterday, which only fed my need to do so.

I grew bored of the downstairs pretty fast. I opted to snoop around upstairs while the authority figures were too busy with the 'wrestling'.

I hadn't been upstairs long when I noticed a door I hadn't paid attention to yesterday. Come to think of it, _no one_ had. They had all passed it like it hadn't even been there. Even my father did it. Billy and Jacob wouldn't look at it.

Interesting.

Curiosity got me on a hook, demanding I investigate immediately.

I listened.

The door opened without much prompting, emitting a low creak suggesting the hinges probably need oil. I had to struggle with it a bit when it hit about halfway, but I finally opened it all the way.

I paused, blinking. _Huh_.

Darkness. Total and complete darkness. Not even a sliver of light shining through a curtain could be seen.

 _Hmm. That's a bit weird_. I thought, stretching my arm out to find the light switch. _Wait. . . What the hell is that_?

My hand found something hard, cold and lumpy. Wtf?

I blinked when the light came on and looked for what my hand had been touching.

A colorful panda with a light switch sticking out of its large stomach. O. . .kay?

The room was dusty and. . .pink. The walls were painted with fluffy clouds, pandas and butterflies. They were not the original colors for their lifelike counterparts. They were purple or pink.

This was _not_ a room for a son.

A mahogany crib, dresser, and changing table that were almost grey they were so covered in dust. The small pink dresser had odd shapes sticking out of the top of it only fed my curiosity.

I closed the distance, cautiously touching the odd shapes. A shape similar to the end of a tie clued me in to their identity. Someone had flipped the picture frames so they were facing down.

I picked up the nearest photo, dragging my thumb over the glass to clear the dust.

A smiling dark skinned woman held a small pink bundle, a man standing proud and happy stood behind her. A smaller figure with similar features leaned over the woman's arm, head tilted curiously.

I replaced the picture, moving on. A corner sticking out from under the crib caught my attention and I knelt down beside it, feeling around underneath. I felt something a bit larger than expected and tugged, the mysterious item emerging from hiding.

It was a book-a beat up, leather book. Letters of foreign writing were etched into the aged leather.

I flipped through it and quickly discovered that it was a photo album.

The first pages were old, older than I was. Most were centered around a young couple, but a good chunk had a group as well. I recognized a younger version of my father in the group photos.

These must be pictures of Billy, my father and their friends. The couple were Billy and Sarah. I'd bet my savings on it.

Next came wedding pictures and a photo of Billy holding Sarah in front of the finished red house he'd built for them to start their life together. I flipped through the rest withour interest, they were more photos of the couple and featuring a pregnant Sarah.

I stopped when I caught sight of a newspaper clip. The first was largest, made up of a picture of a burning, broken up airplane.

I had a bad feeling in my gut.

The second was an article with the heading **Tragedy** : **Survivors and Loses of the Doomed Flight 1407**.

The album was ripped from my hands, I jolted in surprise and guilt. I spun, face to face with the person that caught me.

Jacob Black.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He hissed, dark eyes burning with anger.

I swallowed, mouth dry and words absent. "I-I-"

"What gives you the right to come into our home and snoop through our things?" He snarled, trembling with rage. "Get out! GET OUT!"

I bolted, shaking like a leaf. I had never seen someone so angry.

I shot down the stairs and into the living room, to the safety of the parents sitting on the couch.

My dad twisted, frowning at my shaken appearance. "What's going on? We heard shouting."

"Jake's mad at me. I found something he didn't want me to." Technically I didn't lie, but I also didn't tell them the entire truth.

I sat on the floor beside the couch, my eyes flitting to the stairs nervously once every few seconds.

Jacob didn't come downstairs.

* * *

Hours passed and Jacob Black only appeared for drinks or snacks, before disappearing without a word once again.

I felt bad. Obviously what I did was a big deal to him and I must have really, really upset him.

I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I was just curious.

I finally womaned up and slipped upstairs again. If he wasn't going to come to me, I'd have to go to him. I needed to set this right.

The door I'd previously entered without permission was wide open, a soft light coming from within.

I risked a peek inside and almost wished I hadn't.

Jacob was sitting on the floor in front of the dresser, the photo album propped up and splayed open so he could flip the pages without holding it. Candles were all over the room and some were on the dresser itself, positioned around the righted photos.

The bad feeling returned.

I cautiously entered, inching through the doorway. "Jacob?"

He didn't turn around or acknowledge me.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry for coming in here and looking through your families things. It was wrong of me." I shifted awkwardly.

He was so quiet. Still. It was a bit freaky.

 _Okay. I gave my apology so why am I still moving forward_? I asked myself, hating that I didn't have a clear answer. _He probably wants to be alone and if so, if he sees me right there he'll freak out again_.

Reasoning with myself wasn't working, much to my annoyance.

I finally came to a stop just behind him, noticing that he had turned to the page I had paused on before he caught me. The picture of the plane large and clear, even in the candlelight.

"Look at the date." Jacob finally mumbled, still not looking at me.

I blinked. "What?"

"You're so interested in what went on, what happened. Look at the date."

I leaned down, squinting a little to read the slightly smaller print. My breath was sucked out of my lungs the moment I did.

It was today's date.

I felt like absolute _**shit**_.

"Every year, on this weekend, without fail. My dad invites yours to stay the whole weekend, they watch that bullshit downstairs and most times, when they think I'm asleep, they drink themselves to sleep. Sometimes they talk about it, but mostly they just-" He stopped, inhaling audibly. "He does it every year so he won't be alone. He thinks I don't notice, or maybe he doesn't give a shit. Once a year, he can be a grieving man who lost half his family. His legs."

I glanced at Jacob and the feeling of being absolute shit intensified one hundred percent.

He wasn't the teenager I'd seen since yesterday anymore. He was curled in on himself, his arms held on tightly to his legs, his hands squeezing his elbows with all his might. His eyes were open and vulnerable. He was a small boy-hurting and lost.

I _hurt_ for him.

I understood.

He was angry, hurt and lonely. He missed the half of his family that had been so cruelly ripped from his life.

I could relate. I could relate pretty damn well.

After that little heart to heart moment, we went our seperate ways and hadn't spoken the rest of the night. We didn't need to.

He became the moody teenager again and I pretended none of it happened.

I knew it wouldn't help if I tried to talk to him about it or attempt to comfort him the usual ways. He'd gotten it out of his system for the moment and that was enough for him for that day.

He had been civil that night, even telling me good night. It was an improvement, but I wouldn't expect a complete turn around just because he talked about his family's tragedy.

I chose to kill time by going back downstairs and try to watch something before I went to sleep. I needed to think of something other than Jacob Black and our conversation or I'd probably have dreams about it.

As Jake had said, Billy changed in noticeable ways after a certain hour, I checked the time and confirmed it was ten o'clock. He became solemn and distant, his face and eyes cast in got the first round of beers and he kept them flowing, soon I lost the count and gave up the effort of trying to keep track.

The pair continued well past midnight, but by then I called it quits and went to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight saga, its characters, or its plot. I do not make any profit on this story. Any unrecognized plot or characters are mine.**

 **Note: I'm really sorry for the extended time lapse between chapters. My work and social schedules have been crazy, but now that they have calmed down I am writing again and hope to update more frequently. I can't promise specifics for dates or frequency.**

I had had an epiphany yesterday. I understood Jacob Ephraim Black so much better now. He was angry, hurt and lonely. He missed the half of his family that had been so cruelly ripped from his life.

I could relate. I could relate pretty damn well.

Breakfast was an uncomfortably quiet affair. No one talked to anyone. Not even our fathers made an effort to converse.

I glanced between the three men at the table, uncertain of how to break the ice.

Billy looked awful. He had stubble on his chin, at least a day or two's worth I could guess. His face was drawn and haggard, lines and wrinkles more prominent than usual. There were bags and dark bruises under his tired eyes, which were also red and puffy. Bloodshot.

Dad and Jacob didn't look so great either.

I caught the teens helpless expression as he snuck glances at his father between bites of bacon.

I got an idea.

"Hey, Jake was that a work shed I saw out back?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Charlie had mentioned Billy hiring some guys to build the shed for Jake as a birthday present a while back. Three years ago? Four years ago? Something like that.

"Yeah. Why?" He answered, no heat in his voice, eyes on his plate as he pushed the tip of his fork into the yolk of his egg.

"Wanna show me around?" I pressed gently.

Maybe if I could lead him out of the house, get him to spend some time somewhere he is comfortable, he'll forget about the sadness. He can be free of the pain from losing half his family, the helplessness of being unable to help the dead he mourns or the living relative drowning in grief, the unfairness of the whole ordeal.

Maybe, just maybe, in that shed he could feel happy again. Even if it was for only a few hours.

"Fine. I guess." Jake grumbled, standing to take his partially full plate to the kitchen.

"I didn't mean right this second." I murmured quietly, sighing in resignation as I took my own plate of uneaten food to the kitchen to dispose of and wash.

I didn't really like reheated biscuits and gravy or toast. It didn't taste right to me.

I followed him into the workshop, fully expecting the place to be a mess. I was pleasantly surprised to see that everything seemed to be decently organized and had its own space in the building.

There was a large work bench on the far wall with a decent sized array of hand tools hung on hooks along the wall. Some looked wicked sharp, the metal blades and tips glinting from the rays of the sun we had let in with our arrival. Varying sized wood was stacked in neat piles according to size and other factors I couldn't pinpoint.

Shelves and toolboxes were also full to the brim with tool and trinkets I couldn't name to save my life.


End file.
